“Not much. He claimed I am of the bloodline.”
Devin’s scowl made me squirm. “Everyone believes they’re just a myth. A bedtime story. Chosen people of the goddess of light. Gifted with magic in their veins. Stars in their bones. Magic connected not to one of our moons, but to the light of our stars. Our suns.”
Cleo was shaking her head. “They can’t be real. Every story I’ve ever heard about them made them sound too good to be true.” She picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the fire, a frown on her face. “Which I definitely am not. There is nothing special about me.”
“I believed the old bloodlines were gone,” I said. “Until I saw you.”
She went still. “When?”
“You know. In the capital.” I set my food down and moved forward to kneel in front of her, my voice lower now, the weight of memory heavy behind my words as our eyes met and held. She was close enough to kiss. All I had to do was shift my weight and lean in. “Tell me what you felt.”
She shook her head. “No. I felt nothing.”
“Liar.” I reached out, moving slowly, and took her hand in my own. “There hasn’t been a new Starborn recognized on Lunaterra for many years,” I continued. “And the last time one was mated to a Death Mage was centuries ago.”
“Why does that matter?” She stared at our joined hands, and I knew she felt what I did. Heat. Connection. Purpose. We were meant to be together, her magic and mine. Her soul and mine. I was darkness and she was light.
“Because the Veil is thinning. There are cracks in the Rift. The runes are fading.”
She gasped; her horrified gaze lifted to mine. “That’s not possible. The Death Mages, the Necromancers, even the vampires give their blood to fuel the runes. It’s known all through the kingdoms.”
“There are rifts forming—small ones, for now, but growing. Dark magic leaks into our world. Shadows cross. Wraithborn pass through unchecked. The Tower won’t be able to hold the Rift much longer without reinforcement. Without you.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
“Because the old bloodlines kept the Veil intact. Starborn magic isn’t like ours. It’s not death. It’s balance. Light.”
She frowned. “But if that’s true… why did all the Starborn disappear?”
“They were hunted.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Hunted?” She tried to pull her hand free, but I tightened my grip around trembling fingers.
“There was a war,” I said. “Long ago. Before your time. A cult—led by a woman who serves the darkness beyond the Veil—learned the Starborn were key to keeping the breach sealed. So, she sent assassins. For generations, they hunted the bloodline, wiped your kind from the realms.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes. And effective.”
I let the fire crackle for a moment.
“They were nearly all gone when I was born. Only a handful remained, hidden in the remote realms. But none strong enough to bond. None willing.”
“And you think I’m… one of them.”
“I know you are.”
“You can’t. It’s a story. Amyth.”
“You burned Jarrik. You healed the snapped bones in your wrist.”
She stilled. “I thought you healed me.”
“Healing is not one of my gifts. I am not the wild Fae. I deal with death and shadows, not healing.” I took the opportunity to cradle her delicate wrist in my much larger hand. She was so small. Delicate. If I hadn’t felt it myself, I would not have believed one who appeared to be so fragile held so much power.
“I’m not…I don’t have magic.”
“That wasn’t a fluke,” I said. “It wasn’t rage. It was your power, protecting you. The same way it burned through his sleeping spell. Are you trying to deny it?”
